MR. EDGAR was a money-lender, and scrupled not in exacting thehighest "street rates" of interest that could be obtained. If goodpaper were offered, and he could buy it from the needy seeker ofcash at two or even three per cent. a month, he did not hesitateabout the transaction on any scruples of justice between man andman. Below one per cent. a month, he rarely made loans. He hadnothing to do with the question, as to whether the holder of billscould afford the sacrifice. The circle of his thoughts went notbeyond gain to himself.
Few days closed with Mr. Edgar that he was not able to count upgains as high as from thirty to one hundred dollars: not acquired intrade--not coming back to him as the reward of productiveindustry--but the simple accumulation of large clippings from theanticipated reward of others' industry. Always with a good balancein bank, he had but to sign his name to a check, and the slighteffort was repaid by a gain of from ten to fifty dollars, accordingto the size and time of the note he had agreed to discount. A shrewdman, and well acquainted with the business standing of all aroundhim, Mr. Edgar rarely made mistakes in money transactions. There wasalways plenty of good paper offering, and he never touched any thingregarded as doubtful.
Was Mr. Edgar a happy man? Ah! that is a home question. But weanswer frankly, no. During his office hours, while his love of gainwas active--while good customers were coming and going, and goodoperations being effected--his mind was in a pleasurable glow. But,at other times, he suffered greatly from a pressure on his feelings,the cause of which he did not clearly understand. Wealth he hadalways regarded as the greatest good in life. And now he not onlyhad wealth, but the income therefrom was a great deal more than hehad any desire to spend. And yet he was not happy--no, not even inthe thought of his large possessions. Only in the mental activitythrough which more was obtained, did he really find satisfaction;but this state was only of short duration.
Positive unhappiness, Mr. Edgar often experienced. Occasionallosses, careful and shrewd as he always was, were inevitable. Thesefretted him greatly. To lose a thousand dollars, instead of gaining,as was pleasantly believed, some sixty or seventy, was a shower ofcold water upon his ardent love of accumulation: and he shiveredpainfully under the infliction. The importunities of friends whoneeded money, and to whom it was unsafe to lend it, were also asource of no small annoyance. And, moreover, there was little of theheart's warm sunshine at home. As Mr. Edgar had thought more oflaying up wealth for his children than giving them the true richesof intellect and heart, ill weeds had sprung up in their minds. Hehad not loved them with an unselfish love, and he received not ahigher affection than he had bestowed. Their prominent thought, inregard to him, seemed ever to be the obtaining of some concession totheir real or imaginary wants; and, if denied these, they reactedupon him in anger, sullenness, or complaint.
Oh, no! Mr. Edgar was not happy. Few gleams of sunshine lay acrosshis path. Life to him, in his own bitter words, uttered after somekeen disappointment, had "proved a failure." And yet he continuedeager for gain; would cut as deep, exact as much from those who hadneed of his money in their business, as ever. The measure of percentage was the measure of his satisfaction.
One day a gentleman said to him--
"Mr. Edgar, I advised a young mechanic who has been in business fora short time, and who has to take notes for his work, to call on youfor the purpose of getting them cashed. He has no credit in bank,and is, therefore, compelled to go upon the street for money. Mostof his work is taken by one of the safest houses in the city; hispaper is, therefore, as good as any in market. Deal as moderatelywith him as you can. He knows little about these matters, or whereto go for the accommodation he needs."
"Is he an industrious and prudent young man?" inquired Mr. Edgar,caution and cupidity at once excited.
"He is."
"What's his name?"
"Blakewell."
"Oh, I know him. Very well; send him along, and if his paper isgood, I'll discount it."
"You'll find it first-rate," said the gentleman.
"How much shall I charge him?" This was Mr. Edgar's first thought,so soon as he was alone. Even as he asked himself the question, theyoung mechanic entered.
"You take good paper, sometimes?" said the latter, in a hesitatingmanner.
The countenance of Mr. Edgar became, instantly, very grave.
"Sometimes I do," he answered, with assumed indifference.
"I have a note of Leyden & Co.'s that I wish discounted," saidBlakewell.
"For how much?"
"Three hundred dollars--six months;" and he handed Mr. Edgar thenote.
"I don't like over four months' notes," remarked the money-lender,coldly. Then he asked, "What rate of interest do you expect to pay?"
"Whatever is usual. Of course, I wish to get it done as low aspossible. My profits are not large, and every dollar I pay indiscounts is so much taken from the growth of my business and thecomfort of my family."
"You have a family?"
"Yes, sir. A wife and four children."
Mr. Edgar mused for a moment or two. An unselfish thought wasstruggling to get into his mind.
"What have you usually paid on this paper?" he asked.
"The last I had discounted cost me one and a half per cent. amonth."
"Notes of this kind are rarely marketable below that rate," said Mr.Edgar. He had thought of exacting two per cent. "If you will leavethe note, and call round in half an hour, I will see what can bedone."
"Very well," returned the mechanic. "Be as moderate with me as youcan."
For the half hour that went by during the young man's absence, Mr.Edgar walked the floor of his counting-room, trying to come to somedecision in regard to the note. Love of gain demanded two per cent.a month, while a feeble voice, scarcely heard so far away did itseem, pleaded for a generous regard to the young man's necessities.The conflict taking place in his mind was a new one for themoney-lender. In no instance before had he experienced anyhesitation on the score of a large discount. Love of gain continuedclamorous for two per cent. on the note; yet, ever and anon, the lowvoice stole, in pleading accents, to his ears.
"I'll do it for one and a half," said Mr. Edgar, yielding slightlyto the claim of humanity, urged by the voice, that seemed to becoming nearer.
Love of gain, after slight opposition, was satisfied.
But the low, penetrating voice asked for something better still.
"Weakness! Folly!" exclaimed Mr. Edgar. "I'd better make him apresent of the money at once."
It availed nothing. The voice could not be hushed.
"One per cent! He couldn't get it done as low as that in the city."
"He is a poor young man, and has a wife and four little children,"said the voice. "Even the abstraction of legal interest from hishard earnings is defect enough; to lose twice that sum, will make aheavy draught on his profits, which, under the present competitionin trade, are not large. He is honest and industrious, and by hisuseful labour is aiding the social well-being. Is it right for youto get his reward?--to take his profits, and add them to youralready rich accumulations?"
Mr. Edgar did not like these home questions, and tried to stop hisears, so that the voice could not find an entrance. But he tried invain.
"Bank rates on this note," continued the inward voice, "would notmuch exceed nine dollars. Even this is a large sum for a poor man tolose. Double the rate of interest, and the loss becomes an injury tohis business, or the cause of seriously abridging his home comforts.And how much will nine dollars contribute to your happiness? Not somuch as a jot or a tittle. You are unable, now, to spend yourincome."
The young mechanic entered at this favourable moment. Themoney-lender pointed to a chair; then turned to his desk, and filledup, hurriedly, a check. Blakewell glanced at the amount thereof asit was handed to him, and an instant flush of surprise came into hisface.
"Haven't you made a mistake, Mr. Edgar?" said he.
"In what respect?"
"The note was for three hundred dollars, six months; and you havegiven me a check for two hundred and ninety dollars, forty-threecents."
"I've charged you bank interest," said Mr. Edgar, with a feeling ofpleasure at his heart so new, that it sent a glow along every nerveand fibre of his being.
"Bank interest! I did not expect this, sir," replied the young man,visibly moved. "For less than one and a half per cent. a month, Ihave not been able to obtain money. One per cent, I would have paidyou cheerfully. Eighteen dollars saved! How much good that sum willdo me! I could not have saved it--or, I might say, have receivedit--more opportunely. This is a kindness for which I shall everremember you gratefully."
Grasping the money-lender's hand, he shook it warmly; then turnedand hurried away.
Only one previous transaction had that day been made by Mr. Edgar.In that transaction, his gain was fifty dollars, and much pleasurehad it given him. But the delight experienced was not to be comparedwith what he now felt. It was to him a new experience in life--arealization of that beautiful truth, "It is more blessed to givethan to receive."
Once or twice during the day, as Mr. Edgar dwelt on the littlecircumstance, his natural love of gain caused regret for the loss ofmoney involved in the transaction to enter his mind. How cold,moody, and uncomfortable he instantly became! Self-love was seekingto rob the money-lender of the just reward of a good deed. But thevoice which had prompted the generous act was heard, clear andsweet, and again his heart beat to a gladder measure.
Evening was closing in on the day following. It was late inDecember, and winter had commenced in real earnest. Snow had fallenfor some hours. Now, however, the sky was clear, but the air keenand frosty. The day, to Mr. Edgar, was one in which more than theusual number of "good transactions" had been made. On one perfectlysafe note he had been able to charge as high as three per cent. permonth. Full of pleasurable excitement had his mind been while thusgathering in gain, but now, the excitement being over, he wasoppressed. From whence the pressure came, he did not know. A cloudusually fell upon his spirits with the closing day; and there wasnot sunshine enough at home to chase it from his sky.
As Mr. Edgar walked along, with his eyes upon the pavement, his namewas called. Looking up, he saw, standing at the open door of a smallhouse, the mechanic he had befriended on the day before.
"Step in here just one moment," said the young man. The request wasmade in a way that left Mr. Edgar no alternative but compliance. Sohe entered the humble dwelling. He found himself in a small,unlighted room, adjoining one in which a lamp was burning, and inwhich was a young woman, plainly but neatly dressed, and fourchildren, the youngest lying in a cradle. The woman held in her handa warm Bay State shawl, which, after examining a few moments, with apleased expression of countenance, she threw over her shoulders, andglanced at herself in a looking-glass. The oldest of the children, aboy, was trying on a new overcoat; and his sister, two yearsyounger, had a white muff and a warm woollen shawl, in which herattention was completely absorbed. A smaller child had a new cap,and he was the most pleased of any.
"Oh, isn't father good to buy us all these? and we wanted them somuch," said the oldest of the children. "Yesterday morning, when Itold him how cold I was going to school, he said he was sorry, butthat I must try and do without a coat this winter, for he hadn'tmoney enough to get us all we wanted. How did he get more money,mother?"
"To a kind gentleman, who helped your father, we are indebted forthese needed comforts," replied the mother.
"He must be a good man," said the boy. "What's his name?"
"His name is Mr. Edgar."
"I will ask God to bless him to-night when I say my prayers,"innocently spoke out the youngest of the three children.
"What does all this mean?" asked the money-lender, as he hastilyretired from the room he had entered.
"If you had charged me one per cent. on my note, this scene wouldnever have occurred," answered the mechanic. "With the sum yougenerously saved me, I was able to buy these comforts. My heartblesses you for the deed; and if the good wishes of my happy familycan throw sunshine across your path, it will be full of brightness."
Too much affected to reply, Mr. Edgar returned the warm pressure ofthe hand which had grasped his, and glided away.
A gleam of sunshine had indeed fallen along the pathway of themoney-lender. Home had a brighter look as he passed his ownthreshold. He felt kinder and more cheerful; and kindness andcheerfulness flowed back to him from all the inmates of hisdwelling. He half wondered at the changed aspect worn by everything. His dreams that night were not of losses, fires, and thewreck of dearly-cherished hopes, but of the humble home made glad byhis generous kindness. Again the happy mother, the pleased children,and the grateful father, were before him, and his own heart leapedwith a new delight.
"It was a small act--a very light sacrifice on my part," said Mr.Edgar to himself, as he walked, in a musing mood, toward his officeon the next morning. "And yet of how much real happiness has it beenthe occasion! So much that a portion thereof has flowed back upon myown heart."
"A good act is twice blessed." It seemed as if the words were spokenaloud, so distinctly and so suddenly were they presented to the mindof Mr. Edgar.
Ah, if he will only heed that suggestion, made by some pure spirit,brought near to him by the stirring of good affections in his mind!In it lies the secret of true happiness. Let him but act therefrom,and the sunshine will never be absent from his pathway.
THE END.
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